Reclusive Researcher Meets the Brown Recluse
by edlovesjuicyfruit73
Summary: Victor loved spiders. But he wouldn't be so fond of them after a most unfortunate encounter with this one.


**Reclusive Researcher Meets the Brown Recluse**

_By Edlovesjuicyfruit73_

It was that time again; time to whip out all the Lysol, Clorox, dusters, brooms, and any other cleaning supplies available. It was time for spring cleaning at Caduceus.

Now, for most the job proved to be simple and required little effort. Most doctors didn't even use their offices, especially Dr. Stiles and his right-hand nurse, Angie. Those who did make use of their offices had developed a habit of keeping them neat and tidy for the most part, and so, save for a few dust particles here and there, they had little to clean.

There was one member of Caduceus, however, who had not kept up on his office so well; Head of Researching and Developing, Victor Niguel. Victor was one of the most unorganized staff members in the entire hospital; he was disorganized in an organized way, as he liked to put it. He could always find his papers and the occasional "misplaced" lab rat, but if anyone else was asked to find something in that mess of a laboratory they would be daunted by the task. The hot-headed researcher brooded over being forced to clean his lab, but he was promised a most unpleasant punishment if he failed to do so: he would have to take his piling vacation time. This was something Victor would absolutely _not_ stand for, and so he agitatedly began to clean his work area.

A blonde-haired surgeon Victor liked not so much strolled in coolly with a simple "Hey." Victor did his best to ignore him, but the blonde was persistent.

"You know," he began, "it's rude not to greet someone when they greet you. It's something we as Americans do naturally."

"Oh, put a sock in it," growled the dark-haired researcher. He was busy scrubbing away at a stain on his desk from where he had spilled a vial of some chemical he couldn't quite recall. He had spilled various substances on the desk and soon the colors all meshed together.

"What's the matter, Vicky?" mocked the other man.

"Don't call me that!" exclaimed Victor. "You know very well what my name is, _Dr. Tyler Chase_."

"Gee, you're such a buzz kill," remarked Tyler, ruffling Victor's hair with a chuckle. Victor only growled in response and swatted at his hand. "Watch out for those bed bugs and loose lab rats! You'll get a rash, or worse, _rabies_!" he warned.

"I'm not going to get a rash from anything in this hospital except for you, Chase," countered the clever researcher.

"Nice comeback." Victor just rolled his eyes.

"What is it you want? I'm a little busy if you hadn't noticed, Scalpel Jockey."

"Well, funny that you ask," the amused surgeon started enthusiastically. "I actually was just in the hallway and thought 'hey, I should check up on my old pal Victor!' and here I am!" Victor, with a raised brow, stared blankly at the doctor. "…I need a recommendation from someone who's sat in on my operations. I got Leslie, the Director…" He counted on his fingers as he named everyone he had listed. "Anyway… I need just one more person, and you're the only other one who has seen me operate."

"Absolutely not," muttered Victor. Tyler's smiling face quickly contorted into utter shock.

"What?! But, why not?" Victor sighed as he finished getting out the stain on the desk. He set down the rag and leaned back in his chair, gazing up at the bright white lights that illuminated his lab. He could list a good hundred reasons why not.

"What do you need a recommendation for, anyway?" he asked out of curiosity.

"There's this huge case downtown, a terminally ill guy, and I've studied for _weeks_ to figure out what he's got, and I think I've finally found it! It's another strain of Deftera, I'm sure of it, all I need is one little signature and I can go down there and operate to extract a sample of the thing and ultimately save the guy's life. If I can do it, it'll look really good on my record, you see, and this guy is actually a friend of Ma's, so it would make her happy too, catch my drift?" _Oh, yeah, _thought Victor, _I "catch your drift" alright!_

"Hmm…" Victor pretended to contemplate, scratching his chin. "Nah." He spun in his chair from the devastated researcher and began to dust off the vials that lined the shelves.

"But Victor! C'mon, don't be that way!" Tyler pleaded. "Please, I'll do whatever you want, a drink? You got it! An elephant? Sure! I just _need_ your signature, just promise you'll sign and recommend me for the job, won't you Victor? Won't you do me this one itty bitty favor, Victor?"

"Get out of my laboratory!" yelled the frustrated researcher, clenching his jaw. "I will _not_ help you after all the trouble you caused me when I recommended you for whatever it was that I recommended you for last time! My reputation as a scientist was severely hurt by your stupidity and my support of it!" Tyler opened his mouth to continue his pleas, but Victor cut him short. "Now, quit your blubbering and take this nifty little form here and your broken dreams and _get out_." Tyler left the blank form on Victor's now-clean desk and turned to leave.

"You know," Tyler said with uncharacteristic devastation and inaudibility, "if it were you in my situation, well… I'd help you out." The usually happy-go-lucky doctor mounted the steps and the automatic doors shut behind him. Victor let out a sigh and shook his head, taking the form and throwing it into the recycle bin.

--

Victor was down to the last few boxes now, wiping sweat from his forehead. He was not used to exerting so much energy as a researcher; the most he ever had to do was pick up a little mouse or reach up to grab a chemical and pour it into a beaker. Lifting heavy boxes full of case files or research theses was not his forte, nor was it something he enjoyed, to put it simply. He _paid_ people to do this sort of thing for him, and now here he was carrying the hulking boxes into a dirty old storage closet. Cobwebs lined the corners and the ceiling of the small space, and Victor didn't seem to mind them too much. He had a respect for spiders, a sort of admiration; they didn't bother you unless you bothered them, and that's the kind of creature Victor could get used to.

He set down the few boxes he'd brought in and leaned against the large stack, struggling to recover his breath. The musty air of the room was suffocating. He coughed a bit and then a small groan escaped the fatigued researcher when he glanced from the storage closet and saw that there was a plethora of boxes remaining that needed to be stored away to make room for new.

He began to walk back out when a large box caught his eye. There wasn't anything especially unique about it except for its size; it was at least a 6x4 crate of sorts. He unlatched the hinges on it and opened it, peering inside. It was full of memorabilia, old raggedy college sweaters and photo albums from his youth. Victor wondered how it had gotten in here. He sifted through the old items for a few moments when something under an old, damp book moved. Upon further investigation, Victor found it was a small, brown spider. It was unlike any spider Victor had seen before, possessing upon its cephalothorax a dark, violin-shaped spot. Its legs were a lighter brown than its body and, unlike most spiders, it had only six eyes instead of eight. He tried to remove the book so he could set the little critter free, but he accidentally trapped the spider and, feeling threatened, it bit his index finger.

"Stupid spider!" growled Victor, crushing it. He huffed as he examined the small bite which didn't hurt very badly at all now. It was a small pinch at best, and he disregarded it. "Let's see you bite me now," he declared defiantly. The spider was dead. With a snort Victor shut the crate and went out to gather the remaining boxes.


End file.
